Couples Retreat
by EloiseAtThePlaza
Summary: Sherlock asks Molly to help him with an undercover investigation and there's one major catch - they must act the part of a married couple the entire time.


"Married?"

"Mm, yes. For a case."

Molly regards Sherlock over the body she's dissecting and quickly concludes that he's being serious, a realization that is worrying on a number of levels. She doesn't even know where to begin.

"Why should I?" She points one of her gloved, bloody fingers at him, accusatory. "You've pulled this sort of stunt before and look what happened. You broke her heart. That's what she claims in the tabloids, anyway." _Along with several lurid stories of what you two got up to behind closed doors_, she silently adds, not in the least bit resentful. At all.

Sherlock sighs as if he's having to explain the obvious to a child. "This is different. I am asking you to assist me with a case. You would be going into this investigation knowing full well that I have no intention to manipulate you in any way. Janine was different. She was unknowingly part of the case. A means to an end, if you will. I needed access to Magnussen's schedule. Feigning an engagement provided me with just that."

"Is that supposed to convince me?" Molly reaches to rub her temples but remembers at the last second that her hands have been buried in a corpse's stomach for the better part of the afternoon. Exasperated, she lowers them to her side and cocks her head expectantly, waiting for Sherlock to respond.

"Yes?" He phrases it as a question, as if _she's_ the one who is being unreasonable. It's enough to set her blood to boiling. Honestly, the nerve of him!

"Get _out_, Sherlock," she hisses, trying to look intimidating behind the protective goggles she's wearing.

To her surprise, it works. Sherlock turns on his heel without so much as a protest, leaving Molly in a thoroughly agitated state that she's unable to shake for the rest of her shift.

**~O~**

Sherlock doesn't speak to her for a whole week which in itself impressive, considering his disregard for patience, but it still annoys Molly when, on a Sunday, he shows up to her favorite coffee shop and takes a seat opposite her, immediately asking if she's given his proposition any more thought.

"Not really," she lies. She has thought it over once or twice. More than that, if she's being honest with herself. She can't tell Sherlock this, of course. Telling him would be nearly the same thing as giving in to the whole thing, and he's insufferable when he gets his way. Besides, even if she were to assist him, she's far too busy with work to be of much use in an investigation.

"That's not exactly a straightforward 'no', Molly," Sherlock chides, reaching across the table to steal a piece of her blueberry scone. She slaps him away but he's too quick for his own good, taking her hand in his to keep it still. Molly is tempted to make a scene but one glance at Sherlock tells her that he's willing to misbehave, as well. He will literally do anything for the sake of a case. _Anything_. In the past year alone he's already blown the brains out of a man. In the scheme of things, causing a minor disturbance in a coffee shop probably ranks very low on his list of necessary evils.

So Molly resigns herself to playing nice; if there's one thing she's learned from Sherlock, it's how to act as though nothing's wrong when nearly everything is.

Smiling sweetly, she reaches with her free hand to take a sip of her coffee. Sherlock pops a piece of the scone into his mouth and returns her smile as he chews, his other hand still lightly gripping hers.

"So will you help?" he asks.

"What's in it for me?"

Sherlock blinks several times. "For you?" He nibbles on his bottom lip, considering. Molly takes a large bite of her scone to hide her grin. He'd expected an answer instead of another question shot back at him, no doubt.

"I won't agree to help you out of the goodness of my heart, Sherlock. I lead a busy life nowadays. Dropping everything isn't easy for me, not since my promotion. I need something to work with here," she tells him.

"Fine." Sherlock removes his hand from hers and steeples his fingers under his chin, regarding her through narrowed eyes. "Once the case is solved, I will give you half of the accrued profit that my - _our_ - client has agreed to pay. Rest assured it is a considerable sum of money."

"That's very generous of you."

Sherlock shrugs. "Money is no concern of mine. You can have more than half, if you prefer."

"No, that's - that's okay. I wouldn't feel comfortable taking any more than half."

"Excellent!" Sherlock is up and out of his chair in a flash, pulling his coat back on. "I've already booked the plane tickets. All you need to do is show up at my flat tomorrow morning. 8 o'clock sharp, if you please. Pack for warm, sunny weather."

Molly shakes her head. "I'm still not sure about this, Sherlock. This is all very sudden. I'll have to call Mike, tell him I'm taking a short holiday…then there's Toby to consider. Who will take care of him when I'm gone? And God, I've no idea how dangerous this could be! What will happen if…if something happens, if we get into trouble-?"

Sherlock skirts around the edge of the table. Molly shuts up as soon as he reaches with his large hands to cup her face.

"I will take care of everything. Don't you worry." Before she can protest any further, Sherlock swoops down and plants a kiss on her lips.

It's a quick kiss, devoid of any real sentiment, but that doesn't stop Molly's heart from fluttering as Sherlock pulls away to tweak the tip of her nose in a gesture of uncharacteristic affection.

"Don't look so shocked, Molly. If we're going to act the part of married couple, we might as well start right now," he murmurs, removing himself from her personal space and not a moment too soon. She has half a mind to grab him by his hair and mash their lips together again. But she can't. She won't. Sherlock would see through it right away and possibly rescind his request for help altogether. The embarrassment alone would ruin the forward steps she's taken in her life, and there have been several that she's quite proud of; finally breaking it off with Tom, earning a promotion at work, moving closer Barts and further away from a cozy little flat on Baker Street...

"Molly?" Sherlock asks, and she has to mentally shake herself before she can form a coherent response.

"Yes. Alright." Her anxiety growing stronger by the second, Molly brushes imaginary crumbs from her skirt and tries not to watch (but ultimately fails) as Sherlock loops his scarf around his long, pale neck.

"I'm pleased that we've finally reached an agreement." Sherlock makes to leave but turns back to her at the last second. "Oh, yes. Did I mention we're infiltrating a luxury resort in the south of France?"

Molly feels her eyes widen in shock. "N-no. No. You failed to mention that bit."

"Ah, well. Now you know to bring a swimsuit."

With one last smile directed her way, he disappears into the crowd of customers waiting in line to order their coffee. Molly can only stare at his back as she watches him go, her heart skipping a beat but for an entirely different reason this time; she's about to embark on a couple's retreat with Sherlock and out of the two of them, he's the only one who will have to pretend he's head-over-heels in love the entire time.

Because who is she kidding? She's _still_ in love with Sherlock Holmes. She always has been and she probably always will be. No amount of 'moving on' will ever change that.


End file.
